


When You Treat Me Like That

by Impala_Chick



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Clothed Sex, F/M, Future Fic, High Heels, Hotel Sex, Licking Over Underwear, Oral Sex, Post-Canon, Quiet Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Stubble Burn, Vaginal Sex, Wall Sex, Werewolf Conferences & Conventions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2020-01-13 01:38:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18458801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Impala_Chick/pseuds/Impala_Chick
Summary: It’s been at least seven years since she’s seen him, but his hair barely has any grays. He’s wearing brown leather boots, dark wash denim, a deep green henley, and a leather jacket, and he looksdamngood.Between working on her PhD, forming an underground network of banshees and hellhounds, and keeping track of Scott’s pack when he’s busy with vet school or a mission, Lydia’s been busy.But that doesn’t mean she can’t make up for lost time now.





	When You Treat Me Like That

**Author's Note:**

  * For [raktajinos](https://archiveofourown.org/users/raktajinos/gifts).



> Title from the Bea Miller song.

It’s been at least seven years since she’s seen him, but his hair barely has any grays. He’s wearing brown leather boots, dark wash denim, a deep green henley, and a leather jacket, and he looks _damn_ good. 

Between working on her PhD, forming an underground network of banshees and hellhounds, and keeping track of Scott’s pack when he’s busy with vet school or a mission, Lydia’s been busy. 

But that doesn’t mean she can’t make up for lost time now. 

She intentionally swings her hips as she walks up to the bar, her conference program and her drink ticket in hand. The hotel bar is fairly empty, but it's early.

“How’s it going, Mr. Argent?” She asks, her voice light. She tilts her body towards him without actually touching him.

“Lydia Martin? Here representing the McCall pack, I would bet,” he says with an easy smile. “And Chris is fine,” he adds.

“You would have won that bet,” she answers. Flirting always came easily to her, at least when she felt like putting in the effort. “How are things in the hunter world?” She is genuinely curious. You tend to get tunnel vision when you deal with werewolves, werecoyotes, banshees and hellhounds on a regular basis, instead of humans.

“We’ve come a long way if we can have a conference like this with supernaturals and hunters in one hotel together. Too bad Scott had to miss it,” Chris says, in a tone that suggests he’s actually totally fine with the fact that Scott couldn’t come.

“Scott’s got important business to attend to, but he definitely didn’t want the Pack to miss out on the importance of… herbology in the 21st century?” She says as she glances down at the program. The official program of panels and workshops kicks off the next day. Tonight, the only thing on the schedule is this pre-conference mixer.

“Oh come on, I’m sure the leader of the Banshees and Hellhounds Association didn’t travel all the way here for herbology.” Chris takes a pull from his beer, his eyes watching her the whole time.

“So you’ve heard of us? I’m going to take that as a good sign,” she says as the bartender walks over.

“Would you like beer or wine?” He asks, and takes her ticket. 

“Could I get a glass of pinot noir?” Lydia turns back to Chris and watches him take another drink from his beer. He’s nearly finished it, and Lydia is feeling bold.

“Could I get him another beer as well?” Lydia nods towards Chris. 

“No, that’s okay. I think I better call it a night,” Chris says as he shakes his head at the bartender. Lydia tries not to let her disappointment show. Maybe he still thinks of her as someone young, someone who used to be friends with Allison, instead of an accomplished adult in her own right.

“But I do think it’s a good thing you are bringing the banshees and hellhounds together. I want to hear more about the organization during the conference. I can’t imagine you all are very good at staying out of trouble,” Chris adds with a wink. And then he downs his beer, and puts it back on the bar. Maybe there’s hope after all.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” she says as she leans forward with a coy smile on her face. 

“Have a good night, Lydia,” he says with a nod. But he glances at her chest as he steps away, and Lydia feels like that look could mean something. So she sips her wine, alone, and considers what she’s going to wear the next day.

\---

She has meetings all morning with the alphas and betas from neighboring packs, and then she attends a panel with three emissaries discussing the practicalities of magic use, and then it’s lunch time. As she walks down the hall towards the room indicated by the program, she spots Chris walking towards her. She’s glad she wore bright red heels and a simple, beige calf-length dress, because she feels sophisticated. Chris might be older, but Lydia definitely doesn’t feel outmatched. Especially since he’s wearing jeans. 

“Lunch?” She asks once he’s right in front of her. He gives her a very subtle once-over, but Lydia still catches him doing it. She feels a thrill run through her.

“Sure,” he says with a smile. She lets him lead the way, even though she knows where they are supposed to go.

They talk about Beacon Hills, how the pack has changed, and how Scott has evolved as a leader. They resolutely do not mention Allison, and Lydia is okay with that. Because as it is, she’s already imagined five different ways for Chris to fuck her, and she doesn’t think she has to feel guilty about that. She and Allison always had the kind of relationship where she could be upfront about things.

\---

Day two of the conference means more meetings in the morning, but Lydia gets to lead a special session just for Banshees right after lunch. She spends the break prepping, and is kind of bummed that she misses out on seeing Chris again. That feeling is overshadowed by the fact that she gets the opportunity to address so many young people who probably feel a lot like she did - lost, insecure, and afraid of their power. She feels proud standing in front of them once the session begins, and she wants to use the time she’s been given to be as useful to them as possible.

Once she clicks through the first slide on her powerpoint, she notices Chris sitting in the second to last row. Lydia’s eyes only rest on him for a second, but he smiles up at her, leaning forward like he’s ready to learn. He’s even got a pen in hand, to take notes. She’s surprised, but doesn’t let it show. She’s glad she chose to wear her favorite nude pumps, and a pencil skirt and button-up. Not just because of Chris, but also because she relishes the extra boost of confidence her outfit gives her, as she continues her presentation in front of so many people.

She ends up taking a lot of audience questions, and doesn’t even get through all of her planned material, but she considers that a good thing. She was being responsive, and if she helped even one banshee feel less alone, she’s done her job. Afterwards, she’s swarmed with young people as a line forms, and she feels both empowered and saddened because there is no way she is going to be able to speak with them all. She gets to as many of them as she can, and hands out her card to the rest as the next presenters come in to set up. She gathers her things to step out of the room, when she realizes Chris has been waiting for her.

“Impressive,” he says as he walks her out. She beams from the praise, even if she already knew it was a good presentation. She appreciates his support.

She looks over at him as they make their way into the hallway. He’s still watching her, his face not as guarded anymore, and it occurs to her that the cat and mouse game they have been playing is silly. She should just be bold and make a move. Her body is feeling taxed and her mind is still whirring from the adrenaline high after speaking in front of so many people, so there’s no way she’s going to be able to attend the last session of the day and focus on anything, anyway. 

“Yeah?” She says as they pass by a smaller break out room. She glances inside, finds it empty, and then hauls Chris in with her and shuts the door. He looks at her, his eyes wide and his breathing sounding a little ragged. With her heels on, she’s not that much shorter than him, but she still has to grab his shirt and tug him down to kiss him.

He comes down to her willingly, his mouth just as hungry as hers. Clearly she read the situation correctly. She feels herself folding against him, and she drops her bag to get her hands on hips. She’s relieved to find that he doesn’t taste of tragedy, but instead tastes like smoke and something woodsy and extremely masculine. Then his breath is hot against her neck as he grazes his teeth against her skin, and she feels the adrenaline pumping through her body tenfold as his stubble rubs against her neck.

“Here is okay?” she breathes, when she realizes that they are just in a small hotel conference room, behind a door that doesn’t lock. She tries to say it like she doesn’t care what his answer is, but this is definitely a test. Maybe she’s also trying to absolve the tiny bit of guilt she feels as she indulges in the sensation of Chris roaming his rough fingertips up over her knee. 

“Isn’t everyone at a session right now?” Chris growls, his voice deep and possessing as he pulls back to look at her. She feels his words vibrate through her, and she appreciates the smartass answer, and her reservations dry up in her mouth. She wraps her leg around his, and lets him push her skirt all the way up until he’s gripping her thigh. She pushes her pussy against his thigh as she watches his face, her intentions clearer now. His eyes are heavy lidded and almost glazed over, and his lips are pressed to the soft skin at her throat.

“I hope I’m not overwhelming you?” She teases, pressing her thigh into the bulge pushing against his jeans. She grinds her body up against it, and watches him pull back to look at her, his lips parted. She bites at his bottom lip before he can respond, and he groans into her mouth. She drops her hand down to her blouse, and unbuttons the first button. He stills her with the hand not holding her thigh.

“Oh honey, not yet,” he drawls. She takes a deep breath, his eyes so focused on her that she feels like she’s going to melt under his gaze. And then he drops to his knees, and she inhales sharply. 

He reaches up to grab her hips, and he guides her backwards. He walks on his knees to follow her, until her back rests against the door. She can’t help but see the metaphor in his actions, the way he’s offering himself to her, trying to please her. She feels a completely different rush from the sight of him like that. It’s not just about sex anymore, and she feels _powerful_. 

She puts her hands in his hair and guides him towards her pussy. He pushes her skirt up past her hips, and then she can feel his stubble against her thighs, and his breath is hot between her legs as he presses his mouth against her. He licks the outside of her panties, his tongue a steady, warm pressure against her clit. He keeps the pressure centered there as he moves his tongue back and forth, and Lydia concentrates on keeping her knees from buckling. She moans as he reaches up to pull her panties aside, and then reminds herself that she has to keep quiet. She can’t be sure whether someone could hear them from the hallway.

That thought reminds her of where they are and sends another sharp spike of adrenaline through her bloodstream, and it’s like she’s high from it. She can’t concentrate on anything except the feel of Chris’ tongue against her. Her head thunks against the door and she squeezes her eyes shut as Chris laps at her clit, pushing his tongue around in circles, and she feels her body clenching, desperate. Chris presses his tongue even harder against her, and then she feels his fingers tentatively touching her cunt. 

“Yeah, please,” she says. He pushes two fingers into her pussy, and she’s so wet that they enter her easily. She tightens around them as he slides his fingers in and out. His stubble is rubbing against the skin of her inner thighs, but she barely registers that heat. She’s too focused on the way her cunt feels, so swollen and wet. She pushes her hips outward, against his mouth, and holds him steady with the hand still in his hair. He doesn’t relent, and only licks at her clit harder. She’s amazed that he hasn’t pulled back yet. 

“Oh God,” she whispers, and bites her bottom lip. 

She comes because of his tongue. Her body convulses against him, and she slumps forward a little, her clit still pressed against his mouth. She can feel his palms against her thighs, helping her stay upright. She opens her eyes and looks down at him. His mouth is shiny and wet, his lips swollen from licking her. The sight thrills her. 

She tries to slide down the door, to meet him on his level, but he steadies her and stands up instead. He is looking at her like she’s the sun, his eyes wide and reverent. She tries to cup his cock over the top of his jeans, but he gently grabs her wrist. She pauses, a question on her tongue and a sinking feeling in her chest.

“Lydia, I wouldn’t ask that of you,” he says earnestly. And then the door handle starts moving, as someone from the other side tries to open it. 

“Hello? Time to clean up for the day,” a voice calls from the other side, as the handle is pressed downwards. 

Chris shuffles over so that he can hold the door closed. 

“Just one minute,” he says, his voice sounding almost normal. Lydia adjusts her panties and smooths down her skirt. Chris looks at her, his eyes still blown wide, as he adjusts himself in his jeans. He ducks his head a little sheepishly, and steps closer to the door handle. She grabs his arm before he can leave, even though she knows they can’t stay like this.

“You don’t have to feel guilty,” she says, her voice a hoarse whisper. She’s still trying to puzzle out what he meant when he said he wouldn’t ask _that_ of her.

“I don’t,” he says as he gazes at her and presses something flat and plastic into her palm. He sounds honest, so she lets him go. He walks out and closes the door.

She turns his room key over in her hand. It’s got the room number clearly marked on it. She considers going straight up to his room, but doesn’t want to seem needy for it, even though she desperately wants to continue what they’ve already begun. She considers her options as she picks up her purse and walks out into the hallway. There's no one there anymore, so she supposes they must have scared the poor employee off.

She doesn’t have any meetings or presentations the following day. She just has a couple morning sessions to attend before the closing ceremony. And she has a flight to catch after that. 

It feels like it’s now or never.

She goes to her room first to ditch her huge purse and her panties, which are pretty much toast. She doesn’t bother putting a new pair on. 

She takes the elevator to Chris’ floor, walks down the hallway, and knocks on his door. He answers it lightning fast, and she would have thought of some smartass remark to say except he’s not wearing a shirt and she is distracted.

“Nice of you to come by,” Chris says. “I’ve got champagne to celebrate your presentation.”

“I’ll take a glass, thanks.” Lydia walks in, pleased by how clean his room is. Probably one of the perks of fucking a man who has his life mostly together. He’s already got two champagne flutes out on the desk next to the T.V. He gets the champagne out of the mini fridge and takes it into the bathroom to pop the cork. Lydia sits down in one of the chairs in front of the desk, her legs spread wide and suggestive. Chris comes back and barely glances at her before he pours champagne into the glasses and takes a seat in the chair opposite her. She wonders if he’s stalling.

“You know, you don’t have to be such a gentleman,” Lydia says as she holds the stem of the glass delicately between her fingers. “I can handle whatever this is.”

Chris studies her for a moment, his index finger tapping a rhythm against the desk. His eyes are dark and completely unreadable. Lydia waits.

“I don’t doubt that. But what is this, exactly?” Chris says heavily, like the answer really matters to him. But it shouldn’t. 

“We’re having fun. Seeing where this takes us,” Lydia answers honestly. She can’t promise anything, but he already knows that.

“Okay. I just don’t want you to think I’m some emotionless asshole,” he admits. He smiles at her then, but his smile is warm and genuine and her gut does a back flip. 

“It sounds like you’ve heard that before?” Lydia prompts, because it sounds like he’s trying to tell her something about himself and she wants to let him know it’s okay if he does.

“Occasionally. But the truth is I’m much better at communicating my emotions through other means,” Chris says, keeping his voice neutral. 

“And what is it that you want to communicate, exactly?” Lydia speaks slowly, her glass still between her fingers as she takes another sip, watching him over the edge. He puts his glass down and stands up to stand in front of her, his hands going to the buttons on her blouse.

He pauses to look at her, and she nods. He deftly unbuttons the top three buttons, and cups both breasts over her shirt, squeezing gently. He looks down and gasps when he notices she isn’t wearing panties, and then smirks up at her devilishly. She shrugs her shoulder and bites her lip, feigning innocence but proud of herself for doing something so presumptuous. 

As he leans down and kisses the swell of her right breast, he drags his teeth gently over smooth flesh, says, “This is because I think you’re strong.” She does her best not to shiver.

He brings his fingers to her clit, and presses them in a slow circle. “And powerful.” She doesn’t hold back a moan from the pressure, her clit still swollen from before.

He moves his mouth to the swell of her other breast, and presses kisses there. “And heart-stoppingly attractive.”

Lydia stands, her skin hypersensitive and thrumming with want. “Pick me up and fuck me,” she orders, confident that he’ll oblige.

Chris stands up straight, his eyes intently focused on her as he unzips his jeans and takes out his cock, clearly hard and red at the tip. Looks like he wasn’t wearing underwear either. He pulls out a condom from his back pocket and tears it open, and Lydia appreciates his preparedness. He rolls it on, and Lydia just watches, drinking in his tight abs, well defined chest, and muscular shoulders and arms.

Once he’s done, he advances on her like she’s the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen, and she feels nearly consumed by the way her cunt is aching for it. He scoops her up with both hands under her thighs, her skirt hitched up by the movement of his hands, and carries her to the wall by the door. She grips his arms, and wraps her legs around his hips. 

Chris leans into the wall slowly, until Lydia’s head is against the white wallpaper. He lifts her up a little higher, his hands palming her ass as her skirt is pushed higher. She reaches between them to guide his cock into her pussy. She feels even wetter than before, but she’s not surprised. Chris kisses along her jaw as he enters her, and she moans as she feels his thick cock fill her up, her body squeezing around him.

“No need to go slow,” she coaxes in his ear, her nails running up his bare back. She feels him shiver, and then he moves his hips and finds a steady rhythm. The sounds of his cock sliding in and out of her are obscenely filthy, and Lydia mouths at his ear as he groans. 

She squeezes her cunt around his cock, and his rewarded by his mouth on hers. She can feel his hips getting increasingly erratic, and she can tell he’s close already. She wants to see him come so badly that she doesn't care if he's fast. She sucks on his tongue as he comes, and then she feels him trembling again as she puts her head back against the wall to gaze at him. His eyes are squeezed shut and sweat is dripping from his brow, but his lips are parted and his hair is still perfect and he looks gorgeous like that, sated.

She disentangles her legs from around him to stand on her own. He rests his forehead against hers as he blinks at her, a little shell shocked. She looks at him cross-eyed, inexplicably proud that they should both feel so much pleasure from each other. And then she ditches her shirt, bra, and skirt, and is standing there in just her panties. He's staring at her.

“Bed?” Lydia asks, tugging his hand. He willingly follows her, stepping out of his pants, and as they sink into the soft sheets, he throws his arm around her stomach. She thinks that maybe he’s communicating something non-verbally. Something intimate and thrilling that she’ll have to follow up on later.

\---

They both make it down to the conference on time for the last day, but it’s a near thing.


End file.
